valiance
by HeartOfCoal
Summary: Hannibal sighs, reaches back, and firmly slaps Will across the face. The effect is immediate; Will's eyes snap open and he jumps about a foot in the air, his back catching the corner of Hannibal's sink. He gasped, the walls wavering as he tries to recall where he was. Gently, Hannibal places a hand on Will's face, right where he slapped him. (first fanfic, ever. yay)


Will let the water run over his hands as he studied his reflection in the mirror. He looked a mess– hair askew, blue highlights beginning to bloom under his eyes. His glasses started to slide down his nose and he caught them tucking them into his pocket, flicking off the water and drying his hands on the paper towels that hung right side to the sink. A sigh built inside of him and he let it out, bracing himself on the sink with both of his hands. Will knew that he would have to go to a crime scene soon– that he'd have to shed his skin and step into the killers mind. He could almost feel the vibrato of the pendulum in his core, and he closed his eyes for a brief second, preparing himself. The sink felt refreshing on his sweaty palms; but soon he let go and met Jack in the parking lot, sliding uneasily into the passenger seat. They drove off without a word.

When they stepped out of the car, Will looked around and immediately noticed the neighborhood; he was about a mile from Dr. Lector's house. He turned his head to mention this fact to Jack when his vision got caught on the crime scene.

Irony felt like acid in his veins– he had dealt with the 'angles', yes, but demons were a new thing. The angels had been done artfully but sloppily in his opinion, whereas who ever turned these two young girls into demons had neat, precise. Blood had dried on their cheeks like tears, their eyes appearing to have been cut out, painted black and then replaced. Will walked around Jack and came close to the girls– they didn't smell like death, not yet, and Will leaned in closer to inspect the killer's craftsmanship.

"I'll leave you to it," Jack muttered to Will and the rest of the team began to back away from the corpuses. Beverly gave him a half sympathetic, half curious smile and patted him on the shoulder.

He closed his eyes, blood starting to roar in his ear as if he were submerged in water. Golden light sprouted from behind his eyelids, slashing the air in front of him.

One.

Two.

Thee.

The blood lifted itself from the victims' faces and their eyes returned to their original colors. There was s sickening crack as their necks snapped back into place and they were standing again, arm in arm. Will breathed in and then let the killer walk circles in his mind.

_I see them walking arm in arm, their sin sickening me. They are the work on the devil. I follow them for a mile and when they stop in an alley and the taller one leans in for a kiss, I make my move._

_ I take the knife put from my pocket and put it to one's back, murmuring that they'll live if they stay quiet. They offer me their money– I don't take it, instead driving my knife into the shorter one's stomach and jerking in up. She chokes on her own blood and looked at me, doe eyed and dying. The other attempts to scream but I'm on top of her too quickly. With accurate precision I slam her head into a wall, catching her before she hits the ground._

_ Using the basic materials I have on me, I cut out their eyes and spray paint them black. I put them in, irises facing their brain, so they can evaluate their sins. Their necks snap easily in my grip, and I angle them to the side, skulls touching._

_ This is my valiance– This is my design._

_ˆ_

Will takes a shuddering breath and backs away from the two girls, nearly backing into Jack's broad form.

"Well?"

"He's going to be a frequent church go-er, or at least really religious. In his mind, he was teaching the girls a lesson so to speak– he wanted them to pay for their sins," Will muttered, rubbing his temple. _Damn headaches._

"What sins?" Jack barks when Will fails to responds to another question.

"Katie Harkness and Jo McVek– they were together," Price calls from across the alley.

"So this was a hate crime?" Jack asks Will.

"No, that would imply that he hated them. He feels sorry for them, thinks that they need to be saved from their homosexuality," Will says, "and he thinks that by doing this he has made it possible for them to exist in the 'Higher Kingdom'."

"Why would he want that?"

"I don't know."

"You're supposed to know!"

"Well, I don't," Will hissed. He felt the hair on the back of his head stand up, his skin heating up along with it.

"I didn't bring you here not to know," Jack practically spat into Will's face. "I hired you to catch the criminals. I pay you do your weird like empathy thing, or what ever it is, because it's helping us do our jobs."

Jack took a step towards Will about the same time as the man that came around the corner did. His eyes twitched up and he stiffened. "Dr. Lector."

Will jumped a little at his close proximity but relaxed when he laid a hand on Will's shoulder.

"Good afternoon, Jack. Are you finished with Will? I'd very much like to speak to him," Dr. Lector purred, close enough to breathe in the scent of Wills dense curls. Jack pursed his lips and nodded cruelty, backing away to begin barking orders in someone's direction; Will was grateful that his words weren't aimed at him any longer.

Hannibal steered Will away from the scene and by the time they made it to his car, it had begun to rain. They slid in at about the same time and Hannibal, noticing Will's shivering, turned on the heat.

"You much start bringing a better coat, my dear Will," he sighed as he pulled the car out of the parking lot and began to drive towards his house. Will rolled his shoulders and glanced at his doctor.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No. I just figured that you didn't want to talk to Jack," Hannibal said steadily; Will laughed.

"Wow, Doc, you really know me well," he said, sighing.

"I don't believe that anyone would want to talk to Jack." Will chuckled again.

Hannibal pulled his car into the garage and he and Will began trudging through the rain to his back door. About half way there the physiatrist realized that when it got cold and rainy like this there was a patch on his sidewalk that froze; he turned to tell Will so that he wouldn't find it and fall.

"Will, there's a patch of ice t-"

"Shit!"

Will slipped forwards, catching himself on his palms; he felt Dr. Lector's sidewalk bite into his hands and he hissed in pain. Immediately he felt Hannibal's firm grip on his upper arm and he helped Will up, cupping his hands in his own. Dr. Lector released his hands and got a look at them and sighed.

"Didn't warn you in time. My apologies," he muttered as he looked over Will's bleeding hands. "Let's get inside. There shouldn't be anymore ice."

Will nodded and curled his toes against the pain in his knee, following the doctor to the door. Hannibal unlocked it and led Will to the kitchen; he left him there and shortly returned with bandages and what Will assumed was disinfecting materials.

"I can do it," Will said when Hannibal reached for his hands.

Hannibal smiled at Will. "You cannot properly disinfect your own hands, Will. This will only take a second," he said, leading him through a door into a bathroom.

He stretched Will's hands out over the sink. Before he did anything he glanced up at Will and found his eyes to be full of an unreadable emotion. "What is it?"

Will's gaze flicked up to his doctor. "Nothing."

"This won't hurt."

Will's body went rigid when Hannibal poured the clear, pungent liquid over Will's palms. He bit his lip, hard, and tasted a hint of blood. Hannibal looked up at him, smelling the blood in the air. Will kept his gaze steady on the floor, concentrating on the reflection of the ceiling in the shiny linoleum; he can feel his mind slipping back and forth, from here to a past crime scene.

_I lean forward, catching the reeking scent of fear; they tremble before me. I am their God an d_

"Will?" Hannibal releases his hands, slowly tak

_They don't see me take the knife from my pocket, but they feel it when I cut open their palms. I see networks of veins under the blood. They are robotic; I know it, just not in the literal sense. I_

"Do you know where you are?" Hannibal places his hand on Will's shaking shoulder; he feels the confusion radiating off of his form, his eyes blank and a hundred miles away. Sighing, Hannibal places his palm against Will's neck.

_I start at their palms, slowly working my way up their arms. They're skin bends easily for me, as if I am Moses parting the red sea. Their blood flows freely onto my hands and I wear it like holy gloves. I am their God. I am their God. I am their God and they are my servants._

Hannibal feels Will's pounding heart against his palm and his own heart picks up; he wonders where Will is now.

"I need you to say something, Will."

_They don't bother to fight me. They know that I'm stronger. They know that I am God._

Hannibal sighs, reaches back, and firmly slaps Will across the face. The effect is immediate; Will's eyes snap open and he jumps about a foot in the air, his back catching the corner of Hannibal's sink. He gasped, the walls wavering as he tries to recall where he was. Gently, Hannibal places a hand on Will's face, right where he slapped him. He can feel sweat on his dark stubble.

"It's twelve thirty four. You're name is Will Graham. You're at my house." He pauses. "I'm sorry, Will. I needed you to come back to me. I hope I didn't hurt you."

"No. No, I'm fine. Sorry," Will stammers, unable to look at Dr. Lector.

"Come. Let me finish with your hands."

Will nods and he feels Hannibal's cool grip on his hands; he allows himself to relax. Hannibal feels Will's pulse slow and finishes bandaging his hands. He tells Will that he'll be better in the course of a few days. Will nods and almost wishes he still had Hannibal's cool grasp on his hands.

OoOo

Later that afternoon, Hannibal leaves for an hour to deal with a patient, and when he returns he finds Will curled in a ball on his floor in front of the fireplace. He lingers in the doorway and watches the shadows the fire makes on his face; it almost looks like there are black tears on his face because of the shadow his eyelashes produce. Hannibal watches Will stir and takes a book off the shelf, sitting in the chair near the fire.

He is aware of the lack of fear he smells on Will as he watches the shine of his dark curls. The fire warms them both, contentment filling the air.


End file.
